


Darkness, Receding

by bitterwrites



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternative Timeline, Angst, Emperor Kylo Ren, Eventual Romance, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Mutual Pining, Renperor, Romance, Slow Burn, alternative ending, but for sure, maybe? tbh im just writing it as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 23:13:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterwrites/pseuds/bitterwrites
Summary: "I want you to join me."But when Anakin's lightsaber is destroyed, it is Kylo Ren who wakes first. Unable to abandon an unconscious Rey, he takes her with him, intent on showing her her rightful place by his side. He has seen her future, just as she has seen his, and is intent on watching her turn, and bringing about a new order to the galaxy.





	1. The Deepest Wound

He wakes to a world on fire.

  
What remains of the Supreme Leader’s chamber is burning all around him. The scent of carnage is still heavy in the air. Kylo Ren posts himself up on an arm, grunting with effort, and forces himself to his feet. Hair damp with sweat sticks to his face.

  
A haze lifts from around his mind and he remembers—

  
_Please..._

—the betrayal is still a fresh wound, and it bleeds profusely—

_Don’t go this way._

_I want you to join me._

“—Rey—”

The force of the lightsaber’s explosion propelled her further than he, but it takes only several steps for him to be upon her again. She’s still unconscious, her arms resting limp at her sides. Panic rises within him, but for what purpose? Her rejection, her betrayal, was evidence enough to prove Snoke’s claim to be true. Their bond had never been real, and as much could be said for any feelings he might have had for her. So why is it that he still feels everything?

Despite himself, he takes a knee at her side, and tugs off a glove. There are sparks and flames in the air, and the danger is palpable, and he hesitates when he brushes her hair out of her face. His fingers linger at the base of her throat before finding her pulse. He holds his breath—feels a heartbeat—and releases it slowly.

“What have you done, Ren?” asks a new voice.

Kylo glances over his shoulder.

“The Supreme Leader...” Hux’s words trail off at the sight of the corpse, and slowly, his accusatory gaze slips to the girl on the ground. “What happened?”

“The Supreme Leader is dead,” says Kylo Ren, for the first time aloud. But the panic in Hux’s eye is enough for him to add lowly, “The girl killed him.” He pulls his glove back on.

“Is that so?” The General’s hand twitches for his hip, a movement that does not go unnoticed. “What remains of the Rebellion was last seen fleeing for Crait. It’s a shame that she won’t be awake to watch her friends die.”

“We won’t pursue.”

Hux scoffs. “Are you really so presumptuous to believe that with the Supreme Leader gone you would be the one to give any—”

His hand thrusts forward, fingers arched. Hux hovers over the ground, grasping at his throat. A crunch sounds, giving way to another. His eyes bulge as he struggles.

“Who is the Supreme Leader?” Kylo Ren hisses.

“ _You...are..._ ”

His hand falls. The General collapses in a heap, coughing as new orders are made: “Pull the fleet out. Everyone is to return to the _Sovereign_.” Kylo Ren looks down at the girl, her face soft with sleep. There are bruises blooming along her cheekbone. “Kill anyone who defies the order.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” says Hux.

It isn’t until he’s gone moments later that Kylo gathers the girl into his arms, just as he had before in the forest on Takodana. He holds her close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. It would be fair, he knows, to leave her. It would make them even. But there’s something in him that feels connected to her, something that confirms what he already knows: that he couldn’t abandon her if he tried.

He flicks his fingers, and the broken pieces of the lightsaber rise. They fall in her lap.

He carries her the entire way to Snoke’s personal craft, and sets her down on the secondary pilot’s chair. Behind them, what remains of the _Supremacy_ is burning, and soon all that will remain of it, Snoke, and the First Order as he once knew it, will all be cinders.

He sets the craft’s navigational chart for the _Executor_ -class Star Destroyer _Sovereign_ , and tries not to think of Luke Skywalker, of Snoke, of the broken saber. Of the girl who called him by a dead boy’s name, of the future he saw for them, together.

But the wound is still fresh, and still, he bleeds.

He fails. Miserably.


	2. The Dark Between the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey wakes on the Star Destroyer Sovereign, and seeks answers from the First Order's newly appointed Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren. Is it possible that this man and Ben Solo are truly one and the same?

She wakes in darkness.

    The distant hum of electricity is the only clue that this is not a dream. Under her back is a mattress is soft as plush, perhaps the most comfortable, most luxurious, things she's ever slept on. There is a black, silken duvet thrown over her shoulders. She grasps at it with curious fingers, then she hurls it aside. She still wears her spare tunic from Ahch-To, dirtied from battle. Soot, blood (hers), and blackened gore (not hers), stain the material through and through.

    She’s cautious as her eyes scan the dark. After all, this is not the first time she’s woke in a place that wasn’t her own after—

_The memory of an outstretched hand comes to her, alongside the desire to take it, and the knowledge not to._

    She remembers everything. All of it.

    When she sits upright, her muscles cry out in protest. She lifts a stiff arm, and rubs at the bandage on her shoulder— the only thing on her body that she doesn't recognize. 

    Then, the air around her vibrates with the force. She recognizes this, too. She looks to the lumbering figure in the darkness, and feels her chest tighten. It wasn't supposed to be this way. 

    It was never supposed to go like this.

    "What is this place?" she asks, her words echoing through the room.

    "Home,” he answers.

    She swings her legs over the side of the bed, and casts a scathing glance at the figure. She says nothing. 

    "You should save your strength. The injuries you sustained are yet to heal."

    "What happened?" she asks, rising to her feet. Her legs ache as they've never ached before. Her knees threaten to buckle when she steps forward. In the darkness, Kylo Ren takes a step toward her. 

    "The Supreme Leader is dead, and the lightsaber--"

    "I remember," she says, staring at the ground. "What happened to the others?"

    His voice is curious. "You still care for them? After everything?" 

    "That's not an answer."

    "No, it’s not. What remains of the Resistance fled to Crait. What became of them after that, I don't know."

    "Are they all..." She shuts her eyes, heaves a breath. The time to keep the truth silent has come and gone. "Are they dead?"

    "No," he tells her. 

    Behind him, a metal visor lifts, revealing a lone port window. It's massive, and fills the room with the light from beyond. The galaxy-- vast and endless-- stares in at them. And now, she can see him clearly. Ben Solo, Kylo Ren. One and the same. 

    He looks differently each time she sees him. That first time, in the interrogation chamber, she had been equal parts intrigued and terrified. He had been beautiful, not at all the monster she imagined beneath that mask, and yet weren't all beautiful things monstrous in one way or another? Even on the _Supremacy_ , and during their glimpses of one another through their false connection, Ren’s being unkempt, battle-worn and exhausted held some sort of bizarre charm. 

    Now, he looks taller, greater. The most confident, and powerful, she has ever seen him. He has bathed, and rested, and his raven hair rests in waves that frame his pale face. He wears his dark garb and cape again, but there’s something different about it now. She squints, and realizes that there are threads of gold woven into the armour. In front of the window, he looks like a king.

    Or rather, a Supreme Leader.

    "Your friends and the Resistance—what little remains of it anyway— they're still alive," he says. He takes a step forward, and she realizes that the chamber, though grand, isn't as large as she once thought. He takes another step toward her, and another, until the distance between them is nearly closed.

    "Don't," she whispers, stumbling back. But the effort is too great, and the new panic that rises within her is abrupt, unexpected. Her knees buckle. 

His eyes widen, and before she can begin to process the fall, he has already grabbed her bicep. His other gloved hand grips her wrist. He pulls her back onto her feet. Even when she steadies herself, heart-pounding, he holds her still. They're closer now, too close.

       She’s reminded of the battle they fought together, and the raw instinct of her body knowing his. She recalls the desperate way she had gripped his thigh in the throes of violence, how he had felt her on his back, and reacted without hesitation. The intensity of it all had overwhelmed her, and now, with his hands on her skin, she longs to know that intensity again.

    She looks up at him. Something gleams in her eye, akin to pain, or disappointment. It’s a shame, all that might have been, lost in an instant.

    "The survivors are alive. They're safe, for now," he murmurs to her, “every last one” and she nods. Hope rises within her. Perhaps she wasn't misguided. If this was his decision, then perhaps there's still a chance for him. He could turn to it, if only he dared.

    "Ben..."

    He pulls her closer, close enough that she can feel his breath against her crown. His cheek brushes the top of her head, and she feels his chin dip against her hair. He whispers into her ear, and she shivers:

    "But only because I allow them to be."

    The words are beautifully cruel. She inhales a shaky breath, and watches him with new eyes as he pulls back. Gently, he releases her. Whatever it is that exists between them dissipates, if only for a little while. It will come back. It will always come back.

    “You should have left me,” she says, disgusted.

    “Why? So we could be even in that?” There’s a muscle in his jaw that twitches. “Is that what you would have done, if the roles had been reversed? Would you have left me there to die?”

    The question lingers in the space between them. Rey already knows the answer— yes, a million times, yes. She would have fled, even if doing so ripped her apart inside. Could he blame her for it? Any good she thought she saw in him had been disgraced by his proposal. He was not Ben Solo, the Resistance’s last hope, her equal and something more. She had been wrong. Terribly, unforgivably wrong.

    “Oh,” he says. “You would.”

    He turns on his heel. His cape whips around him, concealing him from her. He makes for the opposite wall, and before she can stop herself, she reaches for him. Her fingers curl into a fist, and she presses it to her chest, wincing.

    “I want nothing to do with this. You know that,” she says. “What am I to do? Cower as your prisoner and watch every mistake that you make? There’s still good in you, Ben. You can still stop this before it starts!”

    “No.” He glances over his shoulder at her, just as the chamber door slides open with a hiss. The bright hall illuminates half his face, leaves the other half masked in shadow. He says, “Your mind will change. You’ll turn. I’ve seen it. In the end, you’ll stand with me.”  

            “I won’t.”

            “We’ll see.” The chamber door seals shut in his wake.

            For a long while, she stands there alone, listening to the constant surge of electricity around her. She forces herself toward the window, and allows the pain of each movement to drive her. Absently, she touches the bandage on her shoulder, and wonders if it was in a dream where she felt deft, gentle fingers clean the wound beneath and tend to her.

_There must be good in him still_ , she thinks, _somewhere_.

            She presses a hand against the glass. Watches the dark between the stars.

            There is still light in him.

            She’s seen it.


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Rey tries to adjust to her new surroundings, an unexpected visit from Kylo Ren changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn't expecting all of the amazing support and feedback that I received on the last two chapters. I greatly appreciate everything, it truly made my day. I'm going to try and personally reply to everyone, but, in the meanwhile, I hope you all enjoy reading this next chapter!

_In the dream, she’s being hunted._

_Something pursues her through the abandon ship’s halls, and she knows (as she’s always known, that to be caught would be worse than death. She hurries through a nearby doorway, presses herself into the smallest, darkest corner she can imagine. She covers her mouth with both her hands, barely breathing. The broken wiring that hangs from the ceiling leaves the lights flickering in and out of darkness. Down the hall are footsteps that make the world shake._

_She barely holds back a scream as a shadow stalks forward, growing greater, and greater in size. It speaks without speaking:_

_Did you really think you could hide, girl?_

_Rey bites down on her tongue to keep from crying out. She shuffles back, deeper into the corner. The curved, metal handle of a door brushes the top of her head. Her little legs have began to shake, knobby knees hitting each other. She had always been small for her age, especially as a child._

_And now, like all children, she cowers and waits. Waits to be found, never to be saved._

_But as the shadow continues toward her, another rises to meet it.. It’s arrival doesn’t put her terror at ease, but it makes her shoulders slack. The hand at her mouth falls, reaches for the door instead._

_Go, the new shadow urges her without speech, go!_

_Just as the door bursts open, and arms—_

Rey jolts awake, her body covered in a cold sweat. Blood whirs loudly in her ears, alongside a quick heartbeat. She takes a moment to steady her breathing. This is not the first time she’s had a nightmare about Jakku. It won’t be the last either.

            The heels of her hands press into brow. Time passes, and the remnants of her dream drift away, as all dreams do, until she’s left with nothing but calm.

Her body, though weak with exhaustion, demands action, movement. She remembers herself and her situation. She can’t stay here, playing the role of Kylo Ren’s prisoner once more, when the others are still out there somewhere, believing themselves to be safe beneath his thumb. They must be warned.

          The chamber, she realizes after a brief examination from the bed, will not be so easy to escape. From what she can see in the dark, there are no visible ventilation shafts, no alternative entryways beyond that of the lone chamber door. There are no guards who can be manipulated into aiding her (Kylo Ren has learned from his mistakes). It would seem, for now anyways, that she is trapped. 

          With great effort, she manages to get to her feet, and examine the chamber more closely. Crossing toward the chamber door, she finds a glass control panel. It's interface is simplistic, clearly engineered to offer the user minimal access. She's limited to turning the lights in the chamber on and off, and altering the air conditioning. Nothing more.            

          Still, it's easier to examine the chamber without relying on the port window as a light source. Next to the chamber door is a gaping threshold, where she images Ren must have demanded the doors be removed. She sees at a glimpse that beyond the threshold is an ensuite. 

          The lay-out of the chamber itself is minimalist in every sense. There is a frameless bed is tucked into the corner, a metal chest and closet-space, and a mechanized desk that comes out of the wall. A calligraphy set, blatantly used, is the only thing on it. The set is the only thing that isn’t monochromatic, but instead an ashy orange.

          Her stained, dirty clothing feels hard, and it chafes against her skin. The offensive odour of it all has begun to make its presence known. Rey glances about the room, checking the ceilings for surveillance (the walls too) but finds nothing. Nothing obvious, anyways. 

          The room is as safe as she can bear, and with that in mind, she goes into the bath chamber. It's rather opulent, nicer than the  one on the Millenium Falcon, nicer than anything on the Resistance base—nicer than anything she's ever seen before. There's a pane of glass that separates the shower head and drain from the rest of the room. It takes her a moment to figure out how to slide the glass apart. Then, with aches, winces, and hisses of pain, she strips. The bandage on her shoulder is the first thing to go.

          Like the hot water beating against her back, the pain is welcome. It grounds her.

          When she's finished bathing, she moves through the bed chamber with water dripping down her hair, her back. There are puddles left in her wake. Her decimated clothes are left behind.

          “ _Really_...” Rey grumbles to herself over the apparent lack of towels in the ensuite.

          She goes to the closet and throws the doors open. She half-expects to find it empty, which would pose a new problem, but instead finds something else. There is nothing but black clothing hanging in the closet. She reaches for a hanger, pulls down a tunic that is far too large for her frame. She holds it against her shivering frame for a moment, her fingers curling against the soft, dark material. She pulls it on, and then the realization comes, that she’s seen it before.

          The calligraphy set on the desk, the clothing, the aura of familiarity that radiates throughout the chamber. This is no ordinary prisoner's cell.

          These are someone's personal living quarters.

          The chamber door hisses apart. Kylo Ren enters the room, his strides long and purposeful. There is intention in his eye—a plan—and his gaze searches the newly illuminated room. It takes him a moment of tracking the puddles on the floor before his eyes land on her. They widen slightly at the sight of her: hair wet, swimming in his clothing, her frame shivering some.

          She can see it now, the slightest shift in his demeanor, as if a plan has been forgot. His jaw grows tight, a muscle turns taut. His eyes are fixed on her. She pulls her shoulders back, raises her chin, readying herself for a fight.

          “Making yourself comfortable, I see,” he says, glancing down at the dip of the tunic above her knees. He gestures vaguely to the ensuite. “Your old clothing will be dealt with.”

          She scowls at him.

          “How are you feeling?”

          “Worse now.”

          “Is that so?” The corner of his lip quirks.

          She turns her back to him, thrusts the closet door shut. She trudges toward the desk, refusing to look at him, and brushes her fingers over a pot of ink instead. “This space,” she says, distractedly, “it belongs to you, doesn’t it?”

          He shrugs. “When I began my training under Snoke, this chamber was the one I called my own. But that was all some time ago.” She tries to imagine it, a younger Ben Solo, one hurt and betrayed, standing in this very room. It isn’t difficult when the same image is reflected before her now. A quiet moment passes between them.

          “Are we on your flagship?”

          “If I say ‘yes’ will you hijack it and fly us into the nearest sun?”  

          Rey glances over at him, her eyes flicking from his face, to the arms crossed over his broad chest, to his boots. Then, back again. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips before saying “no.”

          “We’re on the _Sovereign_ ,” he says, staring out the port window. “After the Resistance destroyed the _Supremacy_ , I had to acquisition a replacement dreadnaught. They’re incredibly difficult to come by—” lazily, he looks to her, “—but you already knew that.”

          “Tragic.”

           “Have you tended to your shoulder yet?” He gestures at her with his chin.

          “Yes,” she says, hiding the wound with a hand despite the material covering it. She grimaces, and then perches on the corner of the desk. The tunic’s hem rises with her.

          “You’re lying,” is his reply.

          “It’ll heal on it’s own. You can see for yourself,” she says, the suggestion one born of mockery.

            It only takes him several step forward to be upon her. He towers over her, decorated in shadow, but his face is still soft. So impossibly soft.

            “May I?” he murmurs.

            She nods.

            Gloved fingers gently grip the sleeve, tugging the tunic to the side. The neckline moves with it, until finally, the curve of her shoulder is exposed. The gash is red, and covered with the beginnings of multiple blisters. It could be worse, she realizes, it _should_ be worse. When she looks at him with a question on her lips, he’s already turned away. Already released her.

            She readjusts the sleeve.

            “It’ll leave a scar,” he tells her.

            “There are worse things that could happen.”

            He says nothing. At this angle, she can see the mark she gave him clearly. That night in the forest, when she’d somehow managed to best him, there had been a sick satisfaction that had come to her when she’d struck him down. Slashed his face. In the heat of the moment, she might have killed him, were it not for the world forcing them apart. She never has apologized for it aloud, but there are some things better left unsaid.

            “Ben—”

            “What did you dream of? Earlier?” He asks, the question abrupt.

            It takes her aback. Her brows knit together, and the remaining remnants of the dream come back to her. _The chase... raw terror... did you really think you could hide, girl? And a new shadow, coming to save her._

             “What would _you_ know about my dreams?” Her cheeks are flaming, and for a moment, she wonders how important the answer to his question is.

            He’s pulled her dreams free from her head before—the island, the ocean—and if he willed it, she knows he could do it again. But he watches her, with compassionate eyes, and she understands that the question isn’t one being asked for his benefit.

            “I don’t need your concern,” she says. “You’ve done enough already.”

            He takes a step back from her. His cape settles around him. She watches him, defiant and anguished. So close, but still so far.

            A muscle in his jaw twitches. This time he does not survey her. He barely looks at her. “I lost something in that burning room too.”

            “Come with me,” he says, remembering the very reason why he came to the chamber.  He doesn’t hold out a hand to her, doesn’t wait for a response. He only starts for the door, while an invisible hand presses against the small of her back, urging her forward. She follows.

            They both lost something. The futures they saw for each other, a sense of belonging, of hope— all of it, torn away in an instant. They both felt that sharp ache, they both remember the pain of something important to you being lost forever, never to return.  

            She still feels it.


	4. The Glass Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren takes Rey, his apparent prisoner, out of her chamber for the first time. But where he takes her is not at all what she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so blown away at the amount of incredible support I've been getting with this fic, it's so inspiring! I'm going to try to update at least once a week, if not twice, but we'll see how that goes. Regardless, happy reading!

 

The corridors Kylo Ren takes her through are vacant. He gave orders hours ago that specific sections of the Sovereign be left empty for ‘routine maintenance’. Nobody— not even that imbecile Hux—thinks to question his order. Similarly, none need to know the details, nor the conditions, of how his prisoner is being kept.

            Where Rey’s steps are barely perceivable, his are demanding, loud. There is a draft in the hall that makes her teeth chatter, and concern makes his brow crease. He says nothing of it, neither does she. Otherwise, they travel in silence, leaving him with his thoughts.

            Hux has been a pest. He asks of the prisoner’s whereabouts, he demands to know when the girl’s execution will be planned (‘She has murdered our Supreme Leader, and for that she must pay’ he declared once, only to be silenced by unnecessarily violent use of the Force). After Snoke’s death, Kylo Ren’s becoming the de facto leader was expected, but expectations and given truths aren’t enough to secure order within the First Order’s ranks. All it takes is one moment behind closed doors for his leadership to be put in question, or ended altogether.

           No, his leadership must be _known_ throughout the galaxy. There are no alternatives. An inauguration will take place, and be broadcasted for the galaxy to witness.

           Still, he cannot shake the image of Hux’s hand twitching for the blaster holstered at his hip when they stood in Snoke’s chamber. Kylo Ren knows of betrayal well, just as he knows that Hux is nothing if not a snake in the grass—one eager to strike. Though the General is a nuisance, he is still an asset, and unfortunately one who cannot be spared. Not yet, anyways.

           "Where are we going?" Rey asks as they near the ship's rear hull. 

           He doesn’t answer her.

           She'll find out soon enough.

           More than once as he navigates the halls, he glances at her from the corner of his eye. He resists the urge to reach out to her, to ask her all of the questions that have been tearing him apart. To know why, once more, he’s been forced to stand alone.

           He can’t stop from wondering what was real between them and what wasn’t. And it’s hard enough being near her in her current state. He hadn’t expected to find her dripping wet in her chamber, nevermind wearing his clothing. There had been something so demure about the sight, something so equally desirable, and frustratingly distracting.

           A set of double doors open up before them with a wave of Kylo's hand. He stands in the threshold, allowing the girl to walk ahead of him. Her eyes widen. She intakes a sharp breath. He wonders, distantly, what it might be like to make her gasp, with the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.

           The viewing room, as they’ve entered it, is a plethora of glass walls and flooring that overlook the surrounding galaxy. There are couches and various sitting areas set-up throughout, as well as an attached board room that overlooks the same startling view. Most days, the viewing room is left empty, but occupying it now almost feels appropriate.

           "I've never seen anything like this before," Rey says, moving hesitantly into the glass room. She goes toward the window-walls, though her eyes remain fixated on the floor. Beneath them, a planet has begun to come into view. It is a mass of blue and green, and it grows larger, closer, with each passing second.

           "We'll be landing soon enough," he tells her, hovering close behind. 

           She bites down on her bottom lip, shifting her weight from bare foot to bare foot. Nervousness is a new sight to see on her. It never occurred to him that such a bizarre space might have frighten her.

           "Which planet is that?” she asks, tapping the ball of her foot against the glass cautiously. “Coruscant?"

           "Chandrilla," he corrects her.

           She blinks at him questioningly. He draws nearer, cape brushing the backs of his legs. His heel brushes the hem with a step. "Surely you heard of it. Even on Jakku."

           "I'm a scavenger," she says, flatly. "Not a simpleton."

           At that, he smiles.

           "I thought Chandrilla had been destroyed after Starkiller Base... and what I'd seen on Takodana... " Rey trails off, pressing a hand against the glass. The battle on Takodana feels as if it were ages ago, and not a series of days. 

           He prefers not to think about it. There are countless planets allied with the Republic that might have suffered Starkiller Base's wrath, and it was by a stroke of luck alone that Chandrilla was spared. The Hosnian System had been a threat, and with it, it's capital. Not even he could bring Snoke nor Hux to reconsider their actions. 

           "Chandrilla continues on," he says. 

           "Only because you allow it to?" she counters, pressing a hand against the glass. Vehemence laces her words.

           "Because it was my home. Once." 

           Her head tilts to the side when she looks at him. And again, _it_ passes between them. The string that binds them both is tugged, and with it, comes a feeling of swelling emotion. He can sense her surprise, and she can feel his sorrow, his terror and longing. Neither of them can address it, nor define it. The air between them vibrates with electricity, as if to physically pull them together.

           "I was born in the capital, in Hanna City," he adds with nonchalance, though his voice breaks on the name. "My mother raised me there, then on Hosnian Prime. But this was all a long time ago."

           "What was it like?" asks Rey.

           The answer is one that comes without hesitation: 

           "Forlorn." 

           She waits for a greater explanation, but it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. When he thinks of Hanna City, he thinks of his mother. Of sitting in her lap as a child, and playing in her office chamber while she spoke with diplomats. Leia carrying him off to bed at night, murmuring stories in his ear.

           But he's also forced to recall his father, Han Solo, taking him on adventures throughout the city. Promising him desserts, and souvenirs, and that when next he left on the Falcon it would be for the last time—only for the same  assertion to be followed by a sea of promised ‘last times’. He still remembers watching his father leave, time and time again, and the tears that followed. Both his, and his mother’s.

           Did his mother even survive the Order's onslaught on the bridge? Surely, she must have. He would have felt the loss, the shift in the Force...           

           "Why go back then?" Rey says, drawing near to him, pulling him from his thoughts.

           "I have no choice." 

           "There's always a choice, Ben." 

           She stands next to him, and together, they stare out at the galaxy.

_'This could be ours. All of it'_ he wants to tell her, but the words don't come out. The silence between them is easy, comfortable. For a moment, it isn’t difficult to forget their roles, and their places in all this. It's easier to pretend that they are two people who have come together and nothing more.

           "The nebula is breathtaking," Rey says. Her gaze remains transfixed on the view. She doesn't notice him looking at her when he murmurs: "Yes, it is."

           She rubs the chill from her arms, nodding. Such a foolish, sodden girl. He unlatches his cape, the gold threads glittering beneath the starlight, and drapes it over her shoulders wordlessly. Rey reaches up a hand, her fingers brushing his as she secures the cape around her body. It blankets her, is still warm from his body heat.          

           "What happens once we land, Ben?" She asks quietly.  "To you and I?" 

           “I’m not sure yet. The galaxy will know who the Supreme Leader is. Nobody will question it, nor stand against me.” His hand lingers behind her back. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?" 

           "You know that I haven't."

           His hand withdraws. "Surely you’ve considered that the Rebellion will come for you once they’ve received word of your whereabouts. They’ll come, and we will be ready for it. In one way or another, you will bring the Rebellion to me. And whether they know it or not, it is you who will be their reckoning." 

           She doesn’t deny it.

           "This isn't what you wanted," she says instead.

           "No. It's not what either of us wanted." 

           Before them, Chandrilla grows larger and larger. Inevitably the smears of blue and green will become well-defined, and the land below minuscule but present. _Home_. Unlikely.

           "Can we stay like this then?” Rey asks, looking up at him, her face as soft as her heart is heavy. “Just for a little while longer?" 

           "A little while," he agrees.

           They stand so closely together that their hands and shoulders touch. He fights the urge to curl his fingers around hers, to hold her close. There are star clusters in the distance around Chandrilla, all suggesting the vast, endless universe around them— alive with the knowledge that anything can happen. 

           That anything can be true.


	5. Tranquil Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sovereign lands in Hanna City, but the ship's arrival isn't anything like one might expect. As concerns of conspiracy and executions rise, a new game begins, one whose rules are unknown. One that Rey isn't certain she can win.

 

The Sovereign lands on the main boarding bridge at sunset, and the light paints the Sovereign’s interior shades of deep red. There’s an aberrant beauty to the sight.  

            There is an arrival crew situated at the end of the Sovereign’s bridge, comprised of diplomats, government officials from throughout the galaxy, and high-ranking members of the First Order. They have been anticipating the Sovereign’s arrival all day, and with it, the arrival of the First Order’s reigning Supreme Leader.

            None have dared to ask aloud what happened to Snoke.

            The first to leave the Sovereign— strangely, as it is commonplace for the ship’s most superior officers to disembark first— are the administrators of import, followed by a legion of Stormtroopers who file into ranks from the ship’s entrance hub all the way down to the arrival crew.

            Next, surrounded by his personal guard, comes General Hux. His countenance is both haughty and unamused, and his strides toward the arrival crew are loud with self-import. There are bruises that bloomed across his throat, hidden beneath his collar, but they peek out every now and again. The setting sunlight calls attention to them when they do. In all honesty, it’s a wonder that he isn’t dead, never mind that he still has a tongue after _biting_ it under Ren’s leadership. But he is nothing if not patient.

            When Hux stands with the arrival crew, his eyes burn holes into the Sovereign. Everyone is holding their breath as they wait, wait to see _him_ — the Supreme Leader.

            Kylo Ren disembarks from the Sovereign next, his face a raging storm. This is the first time for many that they have seen him unmasked, and it is both disorienting and mesmerizing. He still looks hardened from battle, his scar gleaming in the setting sunlight, but at the same time he is still handsome. The golden threads in his armor glow, giving off an awe-evoking aura. He is followed by a small, hand-picked guard, as he approaches the assemblage. He offers them a nod of acknowledgement, but nothing more. Finally they exhale, calm once more.

            Then, another body leaves the ship.

            Dragged forward in chains is a prisoner.

            Rey’s shackles are as loose as they can be without her slipping free of them, and the Stormtroopers’ grips on her are forceful, but not painful. It would seem they’ve been given express orders to treat her with neutrality. Still, they haul her forward despite her resistance.  

            There are rumours that have spread throughout the galaxy about the events that have unfolded over the last handful of days. Questions of ‘Is it true that Luke Skywalker lives on? Is it true that ‘the girl’ as the First Order’s archives named her, is some sort of force-sensitive asset?’ are of the many murmured amongst the Supreme Leader’s own. And now, among the assemblage, their eyes betray their nervous thoughts: ‘Could it be that the Resistance has begun training a new generation of Jedi? Or has the Jedi Killer decided to strike once more, this time making an example of his prisoner?’

            Rey’s previous clothing—an oversized, damp tunic— has been replaced with prisoner’s greys: a simple, loose-fitting top that is a size too big, and a pair of bottoms that are too small and scratch at her skin. They smell vaguely of dust.

            The Supreme Leader hadn’t said a word to her when they left the viewing chamber, nor when they entered her room. He’d only stepped into the room beside her, hesitated as if he might speak, and then abruptly left with the doors locking behind him, leaving her to her captivity. The uniform had been folded neatly on the bed, expecting her.

            Part of her wishes she had never put them on.

            Her defiance dies as she continues down the bridge, taking in her surroundings. The dock is one of dozens of bridges connected to a central building which towers hundreds of feet above the ground. There are ships lazily drifting through the sky, hovering between the thousands of buildings, screens, and various other fixtures that comprise Hanna City’s skyline. She never imagined that there could be so many lights in one place at once, and so much movement, and so much life...

             “We humbly welcome you to Hanna City, Supreme Leader, and are grateful for your return,” says one of the diplomats, a lithe woman with a mass of bright blue coils for hair, her words carrying on the wind. She wears a thin smile.

            Other greetings are offered, brief and to-the-point. None mention the circumstances of his succession.

            As Rey comes to reach them, the guards switch their grips to her shoulders, forcing her down to her knees. She fights them as well as she’s able (which, in her current state, isn’t saying much), but inevitably gives in, the pain of a hand pressing into her wound becoming too much to bear. She hisses a breath.

            Kylo Ren doesn’t so much look at her.

            “You have my thanks, Admiral Mofa,” he says to the blue-haired woman.

            “And it would seem you’ve brought something along with you from your travels.” She looks pointedly at Rey, disdain dripping from her gaze.

             “The girl is not—“ Kylo Ren begins, only for General Hux to step forward.

            “Supreme Leader, let it be known to all present today just whom this abhorrent scavenger is. So that they might understand the threat she poses, to both herself and the galaxy,” he says, tongue curling, his words maintaining a minimum level of respect. There is some sort of calculation in his eye, a curiosity.

            “I beg it of you,” he adds.

            The assemblage eye Rey warily, and now, uncertain, they await an answer. A truth as to whom this prisoner really is, and what she’s done, and what must be done to her in turn. Kylo’s face is impassive, but Rey can feel the change in the air. It’s intense, and it calls to her.

            “My prisoner,” he says, pausing, “is Supreme Leader Snoke’s killer.”

            There is a collective gasp among them. The officials exchange nervous glances, and feast their eyes upon the girl once more, looking at her anew. Not just a girl, but a killer, and an animal, and an enemy of the Order. Rey glares back at them.

            “Will we be planning both an inauguration and a public execution then, Supreme Leader?” asks Mofa, her eyes narrowing at the girl.

            “Yes, will we?” says Hux.

            Kylo Ren glances over his shoulder at her, his gaze filled with disgust.

            He is a stranger to her now, just as he was in those moments before Snoke’s death. There is nothing gentle or kind in his gaze, no semblance of the man who looked at her in the viewing room. It frightens her, but more than anything, it urges her to go to him. To take his hand in the darkness, and either lead him back to the light, or to at least stay in the dark by his side. But then, perhaps these thoughts are wishful longings, the remainder of Snoke’s control. You cannot force someone to go to you, cannot force them to do what they need to do, cannot force them to save themselves.  

_What kind of game is this that he’s playing?_ She wonders, and how might they both win it?

            She bears her teeth at Mofa, and struggles forward once with as much strength as she can muster, only to be pulled back by the guards aggressively. Kylo Ren’s lip curls.

            “Such delicate matters aren’t discussed for just anyone to hear,” he says. He looks from Hux to Mofa. “I expected better of you both.”

            “My sincerest apologies, Supreme Leader. I forgot myself,” Mofa says quickly.

            Hux doesn’t say anything.

            Mofa gestures to the building over her shoulder with a hand. “Shall we discuss this business further, perhaps? Somewhere... else?”

            “Show me to my quarters,” is Kylo Ren’s reply, and under the setting Chandrillan sunlight, half his face is painted red.

            The party escorts him away, and behind them, the Sovereign’s best watch. It isn’t until Kylo Ren and the others are a speck at the end of the bridge that Rey is hauled to her feet. A guard shoves a hand into her back, telling her to ‘move it, scavenger scum’. She submits her gaze to the ground. Allows herself to be forced forward. There are executions, and conspiracies, and nightmares, and daydreams on her mind.

            She does not notice that of all the specks in the distance, it is only General Hux who glances back at her. And she does not see the pensive smile on his lips.


	6. The Taste of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rey is taken to a First Order infirmary, things quickly escalate from bad to worse. With the potential of an execution looming over her head, a desperate Rey is forced to make a decision. One that will impact both she and the future of the Rebellion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to quickly apologize for this chapter's delay! With the holidays having just passed, and personal issues, I've had absolutely no time to work on this next chapter. Thank you all for your patience and support. Expect the next chapter sometime within the next week. As always, happy reading!

The infirmary stinks of chemicals, and more than once, Rey fights the urge to gag. She had half-expected the Stormtroopers to throw her off the side of the landing bridge, never to be heard of or seen again. Questions of where she would be going, and what might become of her, were left unanswered by the time they reached the infirmary.

            It’s there that a woman dressed in proper First Order uniform instructs her to remove her prisoner’s top, exposing her wounded shoulder. Rey might have defied the woman were it not for the maternal tone of her voice, so bizarrely nurturing for a member of the Order.

            She does as she’s told. The woman examines the wound with great caution.

            “Quite the cut. Any deeper and you’d have lost that arm, I reckon.” The woman clucks her tongue.

            “There are worse things that could have happened,” says Rey.

            The woman hums sympathetically. “Well, there’s nothing more that I can do for it. I’ve been given orders to make sure that wound is repaired—but rumour has it that you’re a flight risk. Can you sit still for a moment? After all’s said and done, you’ll be on your way to do what you must.”

            Rey purses her lips and nods.

            The woman wanders to the far wall of the medical chamber, where she pulls open one of the cabinets next to the stone basin. A black, spherical droid blinks awake, hovering up from its place on the cabinet floor. It whirs alive, drifting through the air and towards Rey. A pair of long, thin metal multiceps branch out from its sides, making her think of the ghastly insects that preyed on travelers in the Jakku desert.

            “What is that thing?” Rey exclaims, recoiling at the droid.

            “A medical droid, of course. It’s going to seal your wound, so if I were you, I would be nicer to it. You’re scheduled for a session of bacta therapy to prevent scarring as well. By the end of all this, you two will be the best of friends.

            _All this for an enemy of the First Order?_ “Who told you to do this to me?”

            The woman shrugs. “My orders come from on high and I don’t like to ask. Can you sit still and let the droid be? Or do I have to ask someone to restrain you?”

            “Sorry,” Rey grumbles, sitting back into her chair.

            The medical droid flutters close to her, then begins its work sealing her wound. The mechnosutures sting as they bind the flesh, but there are worse pains to endure. Rey stares at the floor throughout the process, dreading the fact that behind her eyelids, all she can see is Supreme Leader Ren looking down at her without care. As if she were nothing more than an insect beneath his boot.

            She closes her eyes. In an instant, she’s _there_ — back in Snoke’s chamber, the world in flaming shambles all around them. And those words. Those cruel, biting words: _You come from nothing. You’re nothing._

            _But not to me._

Nothingness. That’s all they are, all that they’ve come from. Nothingness is all that they will return to one day. A pang of hurt arcs through her just as the last of the mechnosutures pierces her skin. The First Order medic swats aside the droid. It brushes through the air, drifts back to its closet with graceful ease.

“That should be good enough, I think. We’ll give it a few moments and start the bacta therapy next. You’ll be good as new.”

            “You’re shockingly pleasant,” Rey says, her eyes narrowing. “Why is that?”

            The woman contemplated the question for a moment. “Let’s just say that not all of us choose our fates... and leave it at that, hmm?”

            There is a witty remark on the tip of Rey’s tongue when the doors to the infirmary slide apart. The abrasive sound of metal grinding against metal makes her grit her teeth. A trio of Stormtroopers stand in the threshold, their blasters held to their chests, ready to fire at any moment.

            Both women startle, but it’s the medic who steps forward first.

            “What’s the meaning of all this? We aren’t finished yet,” she says.

            One of the Stormtroopers moves forward to meet her. “The prisoner is finished here. By order of Admiral Mofa under General Hux, she is to report to the Hall of Dissolution immediately.”

            “Hall of Dissolution? That can’t be right, Admiral Mofa just ordered that the girl’s hurts be tended to!”

            "We don’t ask questions. The Admiral’s mind changed. Now: the girl.”

            There is a moment of realization that hits Rey with all the intensity of a blaster’s bolt. Again, she’s brought back to that sight on the bridge. Now, she realizes, Kylo Ren’s mind must be made up.

            There will be both an inauguration of the Supreme Leader _and_ the execution of one of the First Order’s greatest threats. It is a startling way to begin his regime, but it would speak volumes to the galaxy of his power.

            The Hall of Dissolution must be nothing less than an execution ground—the place where Rey would breathe her last breath, whisper her last words.

            The Stormtroopers grab her before she can react. The barrel of a blaster is pressed into her back. Her breathing is quick, her mind reels for a solution. This can’t be the end. He wouldn’t betray her like this. He couldn’t. And yet, and yet—

            “No, no, wait!” she cries as they drag her from the medical chamber. The doors clang shut behind them.

            She struggles, writhes, twists and contorts her body as they force her through several wings and corridors. There are a handful of lingering bodies that watch them pass, their eyes filled with shock, pity, and awe. This works only to fuel her fight as they start toward a pair of doors. They are grand, ornate and dark. The sound of blood rushing in Rey’s ears is nothing less than a knell.

            One of the grips on her arms weakens and hastily attempts to find purchase once more. She takes advantage of the moment, forcing that same arm down. She cuts her elbow back. The Stormtrooper begins to react, but already, she has taken advantage of the situation.

            She brings her center of gravity down low into a crouch, forcing her other restrained arm down and back. The second Stormtrooper’s grip breaks. The blaster at her back is gone, but only for a moment if she doesn’t act fast. Rey springs up on the balls of her feet, twists her body around so that she’s facing her adversaries.

            She brings up a hand, and as easily as drawing breath, a blaster comes soaring at her. She catches it. Turns it on the armed Stormtroopers, fires it. Once, twice. Then her aim settles on the only unarmed member of the trio. He raises his hands in submission.

            “Tell me where the nearest —” Her words break off as the pair of doors burst apart.

            She feels him before she sees him.

            Kylo Ren stands in the doorway, absent of his guard and entourage. Bewilderment paints his face. He looks at the two dead guards, then to Rey.

            “What happened here?” he asks.

            “Supreme Leader, the girl—” The Stormtrooper starts.

            “Not you.” With a flick of Kylo Ren’s wrist, the Stormtrooper is lifted off his feet, then hurled into the nearest wall. “ _Her._ ” The corridor is left in silence, all but for Rey’s ragged breathing.

            She turns the blaster on her betrayer.

            “You were going to kill me,” she says, the words laced with hatred.

             He eyes the blaster warily. “What would make you think something like that?”

            “They came to the—the infirmary. They said they were given orders to come and get me. To bring me to the Hall of Dissolution, to _my_ execution. Who else would be able to give an order of that measure, Supreme Leader Ren?”

            He raises his chin at the jab. But he doesn’t react. If he truly did intend to have her killed, he shows no sign of it.

            “Did you hear who gave that order?” he asks.

            “Mofa.”

            Something violent glints in his eye.

            “You’re not going to die here. I would never allow it.” It’s that gentle tone in his voice that makes her waver. That horrible, deceptive softness. He gestures with a hand to the blaster. “Will you put that thing down?”

            She glances down at it. Tightens her hold.

             “Please, Rey.”

            And plain as daylight, she sees _him_ again. Though she doesn’t trust this place, nor her enemy, she does trust Ben Solo. And here he stands before her, not the Supreme Leader from the bridge, but a boy. Alone in the galaxy, desperate and hurt. Unaware that he’s threatening the very peace he always thought impossible for him to have.

            “Please,” he whispers.

            “How can we go on like this, Ben? I don’t know what to believe, or who to trust. I don’t know how to survive this—this place, or what you want to become. But I think I know what I must do, and it terrifies me.”

            For a moment, she wonders, does he understand what he’s done? Does he understand what must come next? Or what she will become, and all she must do to save herself, the galaxy, and the Rebellion that’s been left in shreds?

            He watches her, half-prepared to defend his life, half-ready to lay it down at her feet. But the air between them his palpable and alive. He breathes her in deeply. The intensity of his gaze steals her breath. She understands now, all that she will do. No matter the cost.

            “Not all of us get to choose our fates,” she murmurs. “But I know mine. We’ve both seen it.” Her finger brushes the trigger.

            “Rey, wait—”

            The blaster falls to her feet.

            “I’ve made my choice,” she says.

            Her hand extends toward him, and she waits. His eyes travel upward from the blaster at her feet. When their eyes lock, a shiver races down her spine. In a moment, he’s close to her again. With great hesitation, he puts his hand in hers, uncertain. She squeezes his hand.

            For the first time, she sees him smile—his eyes alight with elation—and the sight is one that could bring her to her knees. It is his smile that hurts her the most, for she knows that one day, he will think of this moment and damn himself for being so trusting.

            “We have much to discuss, you and I,” he says.

            Rey takes a deep breath and tries to savor the moment. But everything is painted with lies and treachery. It’s despicable, knowing that this is what being someone’s last hope feels like.

            She brushes her thumb over the back of his gloved hand. They are together for now. That’s all that matters. Even if it is a small, worthless victory. She longs to know that one day, he will forgive her. Not for all that she has done, but for all she is going to do.


	7. Deceptions and Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After taking Rey as his equal, Kylo Ren is forced to find a way to integrate an enemy of the First Order into their ranks. And all the while, a fellow Superior Officer begins plotting a vengeance scheme of his own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am so sorry about the months-long wait on this chapter (and am equally sorry about it being so short). I've been so busy with my personal life, and have been busy writing away on a piece that I am interested in getting published in the near future, but I still have D,R on the brain. For now, enjoy this brief interlude, and bear with me for what will come next. Thank you all for your patience and happy reading!

He arrives at what was once the councillor’s meeting chamber several hours later, face stormy, eyes sharp as broken glass. Upon hearing of Supreme Leader Ren’s arrival, the Chandrillan heads of state and political power made the combined decision to turn the councillor’s chamber (for the time being anyway) into the de facto First Order meeting quarters. None dared to question the decision. Just as none of the political heads nor the First Order officials dare to mention that the Supreme Leader is over an hour late.

            There’s no point to making such a statement—and terror, like awe, keeps the officials’ priorities rooted in place.

            Hux’s lip curls as his scowl deepens. Though he is yet to openly voice his disgust at the current circumstances, his expression speaks volumes. Anyone looking at him can tell that fate has not dealt him a kind hand, but regardless, he’ll play the game. And so, behind his scowl, his own self-satisfied way of being continues on.

            It was Hux who gave Lieutenant General Mur the order to have the girl (or rather, the prisoner) sent to the Hall of Dissolution to be executed quietly. And it was the Major General Tyra Perellan who passed the order on to Admiral Mofa to have the girl seized. If the First Order’s officers were truly competent, then the girl was likely as dead as Supreme Leader Snoke. The news of her death would certainly cause a stir within Ren— Hux was counting on it.

            Anything to make Kylo Ren break under pressure, to create doubt in his rule, would be worthwhile to Armitage Hux. Anything to create tension. Anything to spark an uprising.

            The thoughts bring him _hope_.

            Perhaps the insolent rebels knew a thing or two after all...

            Upon Kylo Ren’s arrival, the room becomes deafeningly quiet. Somehow silence manages to echo off the immaculate, ivory walls. From top to bottom, the room is painted in shades of blinding white. The First Order officials and their leader, swathed in shadow, stick out like sore thumbs.

            “Supreme Leader,” Mofa says, bowing her head lowly in his presence.

            Hux half expects her to be flung across the room, neck broken, head split open cleanly. But she remains in her seat. Untouched.

            What in the universe is going on?

            “You’re all here. Good.” When Ren sits, the others watch him the way one might watch a wild animal. None are certain if he is feral or not.

            He sits ramrod straight. The posture of a prince. It makes Hux sick.

            Of course Ren would look so boody comfortable in his current predicament. Thoughts begin to race through Hux’s mind: _What if the girl is not dead? Is that why the intolerable cur is so smug right now?_

            Kylo Ren says, “There was an execution today.”

            The room sucks in a breath.

            “I am uncertain of who gave the order. Though I know it was not I.”

            The room holds it.

            He continues on, “Is there any information that anyone present at this meeting would like to provide?”

            Nothing.

            “No?” Just a searing in their lungs. “I see. That is fine.”

            A burning, biting pain. Is this his doing? Surely it must be—Hux can feel it now, a ghost’s hand choking him.

            “Regardless, I stayed the execution. And should anything happen to the scavenger, there will be dire consequences. She is of great interest to us.”

            Yet all at once, the pain is gone. Everyone exhales slowly. And then, there is only silence.

            “Just who is this girl?” Hux asks, his voice barely a whisper. Nobody knows what to say or do. How could he be so forward?

            Ren’s steely gaze falls on him, bored. “A person of interest. An espionage officer.”

            “Absurd,” the general says, “I know of no such officer.”

            “And yet she exists all the same.”

            “Where is this officer now, Supreme Leader?” Mofa asks from her seat. How can she still be so respectful? Isn’t she disgusted that her orders were disobeyed?

            “Alive and well. The girl will be shown the utmost respect, for her power is an extension of my own. I hope that much is clear to everyone here today.”

            Nods, even a reluctant one from Hux.

            “What will we d-do next then, sir?” asks a soft-spoken voice from the corner of the room.

            Ren barely looks their way. “I shall leave the extension of the First Order’s military control over the galaxy to the likes of you. All of you. We’ll start with the Outer Rim.”

            “The Outer Rim? Are you certain—?” begins Mofa.

            “Leave it to us,” says Hux with what looks like unwavering support, a gleam of admiration in his eye. What a good soldier indeed. “The Outer Rim is the perfect place to begin the First Order’s restoration of the galaxy. I couldn’t have made a better decision myself.”

            Absently, Mofa nods.

            And from behind his mask of absolute power, and menace, and wrath—the Supreme Leader lets loose the slightest of relieved breaths. Success has never felt so good.

            And in the back of his mind, he wonders just what the Empress must be doing right about now...


End file.
